Life is What Happens
by blc
Summary: Formerly a "Magpie's Nest" One-Shot Angst-Fic. Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans-- but sometimes you have to lose something in order to find it again. A definite other than B/B pairing, with some happy endings. Angst/Romance.
1. Chapter 1

_**Several variations on this story have been bouncing around in my brain—this is the one that made its way into the clear light of day. This is most emphatically **__**not**__** a B/B pairing, though there is a pairing. Angsty. And thought-provoking, I hope.**_

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We were standing over the balcony, looking down not into the lab but out into the gardens. It had been a hard case, and the whole team was bushed. I'd come up for coffee and Cam joined me as we idly looked out the window, content not to talk. It had been a three sunrises and three sunsets case, the last finally setting outside the lab. I checked my watch, and noticed it was almost a half hour since Bones said she'd be up in twenty minutes to join me, so I set my coffee down on the table and tipped Cam a smile before tracking my partner down.

She was in her office-- and she wasn't alone, I saw, as I started across the long diagonal of the lab toward the fishbowl she worked in. She was sitting on her couch, and Hodgins, of all people, was standing behind the couch, rubbing her neck, both their backs to me. I didn't think I'd ever seen the two of them touching after the Gravedigger case, but ever since he and Ange broke up, it was weird-- she and Jack seemed to be closer, even though you'd think it would be Ange who would be closer to Bones. But Ange had Roxie and seemed to be one of those women who lived their whole lives through their current romantic relationship, so I guess it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for Bones to try and be there for Hodgins. The squints didn't seem to pick sides that way. Certainly, Ange and Hodgins seemed to be getting along fine. The secret lives of squints, I guess.

I was about halfway across the floor when I stopped short. Bones leaned back into Hodgins where he was standing behind her, and he gently smoothed back a strand of hair that fell into her face, before leaning down to kiss her cheek. And she-- turned into the kiss, kissing him back with her eyes closed.

"Ah," came Cam's quiet voice behind me. I was completely unable to turn around and look away as Jack's hand caressed the side of her face, and her hand came up to twine around the back of his neck.

I felt the floor fall out from under me, and suddenly nauseous, I turned. Cam had a sympathetic, almost pitying look on her face.

"How long?" I managed.

She shrugged. "That they've been working toward it? Or since they've been kissing? A month and two days that they've been working toward it-- the latter? Last night a few hours after you left and we were all still waiting for data to render ... it was sweet," she said, smiling in remembrance.

"But ... how?"

She looked at me keenly, that way she's always had of telling me something I'm really not going to like.

"A month and two days ago, Booth, was the second anniversary of their Gravedigger kidnapping. They both stayed late to work. You peeled off for a Capitals game, Angela had something with Roxie, and I only remembered after everyone else left and I saw them sharing Vietnamese in her office and looking stressed as all get out. I couldn't think of why until I looked at the calendar, and then I realized, apologized for not remembering earlier, and got the hell out. I think they worked the whole night through. It's been ... well, slow but sure ever since, I think, though Brennan's not the type to flaunt herself, as much of a goofball as Jack is. That kiss, though. That was sweet." Another fond smile graced her face, and I felt my heart clench. I could imagine—Jack was handling her tenderly, like a new and sincere lover should. He was a good guy, no contest.

"Why didn't she remind me?" was the only coherent thing I could manage.

"Why didn't you remember?" Cam countered. "You were busy with your own stuff. We all were. They're neither of them the type to ask for help, though they'll give it in spades. So … they found each other, I guess, that night. I don't know, it was just … the air was different around them afterward."

"But ... I was going to ..." I trailed off. Was I? When? We'd been working together for four years. How long was long enough?

Cam patted me on the arm. "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans, Seeley." With a last sympathetic look at me, she walked off to her office-- leaving me to turn once again and look at my partner. Who looked happy. With Hodgins.

So much for my plans.

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"**_Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans_**." There may be other versions of this quote, but the one I've always known is from John Lennon.


	2. Chapter 2

**_I got more comments on this one-shot Magpie's than I have on the the last three combined. And frankly, I'm stalled on my other fics. So... I make no promises as to the outcome, except that at the end, everyone at the story will have learned something, and come to a version of happy. I hope you enjoy the journey.

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_**"Angela?"

I looked up, and Bren was standing uncertainly in my doorway. Geez, look at the time, later than I thought, well, at least for me. The rest of these nerds, well, that's another issue. "Hey, hon, what's up?"

"I need to talk to you for a bit," she said, gravely. "Do you mind if I shut the door?"

"Sure," I said, wondering. She looked so serious and worried. Serious was nothing new, but worried? That was. She shut the door, then sat down on the sofa.

"I... I don't really know where to begin..." she said. She seemed nervous, like there was something she needed to tell me, but wasn't quite sure how. And then I knew-- or thought I did.

"Bren, honey... Booth finally admitted he loves for you?!? I'm so excited for you..."

She just looked at me quietly for a moment, then shook her head no. "Hardly. Anything but."

"Bren, sweetie, come on, you know he totally loves you..." I said.

"Ange! Will you just shut up and listen to me for once!" she said loudly and with more than a bit of distress, and I was so surprised I actually did.

"Okay. Sorry. What?"

She looked at me levelly, and I suddenly wondered what she was going to say. It'd been a while since we'd really talked, not much since I crashed at her place right after I broke up with Hodgins-- and then Roxie and I got back together-- I wondered what had her so worried and tense.

"Three weeks ago was the second anniversary of Hodgins and me ... and the Gravedigger," she said quietly.

"Oh, Bren, sweetie," I breathed, as the floor dropped out from under me. "I'm so sorry... I should have been there for you... and oh, God, for Hodgins... I just ... oh, Bren, I forgot!"

She twisted her mouth ruefully. "You're not the only one. Booth, too. Cam as well, except that she came upon us after Hodgins and I started eating our delivery and apologized before she left the lab."

'_Hodgins and me_,' she said. "You guys hung out that night?"

She nodded, assessing. "Not intentionally ... we just ... neither one of us had anyone at home, so ... we both decided to work late and decided we'd be better off staying together."

Something she said caught me. "Sweetie... why didn't Booth remember?"

She shrugged her shoulders, resigned. "I don't know, Ange. I can't make sense of him. But ... Hodgins and I got through it alright, and it was nice to spend time with him."

I was still stuck on the Booth part. "Honey... I took Hodgie home that first night. What did you do?"

"Booth dropped me off, I tried to sleep, I came to work after Booth and I went to his church first thing in the morning..." she trailed off in memory.

"He didn't stay the night at your place?"

She shook her head again. "No... he was with Cam at the time."

"But ... what about last year?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know what he did. I worked overnight."

Oh, God. My heart clenched. "You worked here, overnight, at the lab, all by yourself? Honey..."

She just looked at me, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Bren, I just assumed... I mean, I would have thought he'd keep you company-- otherwise, you and Hodgie and I would have gotten mind-bendingly drunk."

She smiled more genuinely then, and I was glad at least that I could do that for her since I'd been such a flake otherwise. "I wish you had said something," I tried. "At least to Booth, if not me..."

Her face fell, then. "Ange. I know you think there's some undying passion he harbors for me, and I admit, I have thought about it, but... it's hard to explain. He keeps making all these vague promises, then never does anything. And I'm ... well, anyone else and I would go after them, but he promises then doesn't deliver, and ... he's my friend, anyway, and I don't want to lose that, everything else aside. And sometimes... you don't want to have to ask. You just want someone to remember. This is one of those things. I don't want to talk about it. I just want someone to remember with me."

Oh, God. My heart just broke into a million pieces, and not just because I've been a lousy friend.

"And I didn't remember."

She nodded sadly.

"Booth either."

She nodded again, even more sadly. Talk about catching up with your own reality.

"Honey, I'm sorry. Really. I'm just..."

"You were busy with Roxie. I know how it is, Angela. But... look. That wasn't really the point." She looked worried, confused, and almost scared all over again.

"What is it, sweetie?"

She hesitated. "Will you promise to hear me out first?"

Ah. What I'd been ignoring thinking about. "Okay." I couldn't say much more around the impending lump in my throat.

"Hodgins and I ... well, it was just friendship and company that night, and that's what it still is, but we've had breakfast or lunch or ... seen Zack ... a few times since and ... Ange. This is terrible. I feel horrible saying this to you. But I knew if I didn't say anything either, it would be worse."

"You want to date Jack."

She nodded, biting her lip and tears welling in her eyes. "I want to try, at least."

"And does he feel the same?"

She nodded. "He wants to talk to you, too. Neither one of us will let it go any further if it makes you at all uncomfortable-- we both love you too much to hurt you, Ange, but..." she bit her lip again and a tear ran down her cheek, unheeded.

They both trusted me enough not to overreact if they came to me before anything happened to ask my permission-- or they loved me enough to put put up with any tantrum I threw. I knew that much was true, even as my inner drama queen wanted to start getting riled up. I told her to shut up-- they trusted me enough to tell me the truth, and to control themselves long enough in order to do so. Bren was a terrible liar, and in any event, Jack never lied to me. And now, here they were, letting me know what was happening, giving me a veto when I'd been the one to dump Hodgins despite what I knew now was a reasonable reaction to the fact that I really shouldn't have kissed Grayson, no matter what. At least I'd made that much sense out of it all-- trust. Hah. Trust me to forget something so important to them both.

"But ... what about Booth? He really does love you."

Bren let out a long, ragged exhale. "I'm sure that he does, some way. And ... I care about him ... suppose I love him in some ways, but... it's been four years, Ange, two since he drew that line of his, and I know that there are lots of things I could tell him, but everything else notwithstanding ... I need someone who'll remember things like these without my having to remind them or ask them for help. Maybe I should have said something to him earlier, generally, but that doesn't change the fact that whatever we are to each other, this is something he should remember."

She didn't mean it as a slap to me, and I didn't take it that way, but it was a slap all the same. As much as I wished she would reach out more on a regular basis, that didn't excusing my not remembering, either, especially since at least unlike Booth I'd spent two of the last three years helping one of them deal with the aftereffects of it all. And now ... my best friend and someone I once thought was the love of my life wanted to give it a try, because they could be there for each other. I hardly deserved to be called her best friend, either, assuming as I did that Booth would just keep her company. As I often assumed, but apparently had been wrong about. And Hodgins? Half of me thought I'd dumped him his sake. Another part of me wanted him back. And another part of me didn't know what I wanted-- somehow that part always seemed to win in long-term relationships.

She'd been looking at me as I thought, trying to stay composed but truly concerned. She looked so sad, and yet ... hopeful. And she was right ... everything else aside, it was something he should have remembered. I should have remembered.

"I can't promise I won't be weirded out for a bit, but I promise I will try to be fair, and if I can get my brain wrapped around the fact that I have a problem, I'll let both of you know."

Her face lightened so quickly from worry to hope that my heart clenched again. Bren and Hodgie? Weirder things had happened. They'd been there for each other three years ago, and now they were there again for each other this year.

"Thank you, Angela," she said with real relief. "I... I just want to try, that's all."

"Everyone deserves to try, Bren," I could say with no qualms. I didn't know how I'd feel when it all shook out, but, well, I'd made my bed and now I would have to lie in it. It would hardly be fair to ask Hodgie to wait around while I figured my own life out-- I'd already moved on to someone else and told him he should do the same.

That he should want it to be with Bren? Well, I don't suppose it was that weird, after all. They both cared about me, and I cared about them. How could they not at least care for each other? And... didn't Jack have as much of a right to move on as I did? Hell, Bren had a right to move at all-- I could see, now, she'd been spinning her wheels with the G-Man.

"I ... I hope it works out in the end, and everyone finds their own bit of happiness." I did. I don't know who I hoped it worked for, in what combinations-- but I could learn to be a little less self-centered in the meantime.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Hodgins was sitting up in the lounge, thoughtfully drinking coffee and occasionally shooting glances down toward Angela's office, where I'd seen Dr. Brennan go in fifteen minutes before, then close the door. As I passed, I could see both their faces were serious, then noted that Dr. Hodgins was missing from his station.

When I looked up, I saw him. Waiting for ... something. Since no one seemed to be doing any work (and why not, we were slow, it wasn't actually as if the team were slackers) I decided I'd see what I could about what was going on.

He arched an eyebrow at me as I mounted the stairs, a serious look on his face. "Hey," he said, giving me a nod as I said hello and went to pour myself coffee. I sat down next to him and turned to look in the same direction as he did.

"Some problem with Dr. Brennan and Angela?"

"We'll see," was his cryptic response.

He took another sip of his coffee, shot me an unreadable look, then asked after the newest batch of resumes that came in for possible replacements for Zack. As if there could be such a thing. But we had to try to move on ... or at least try. I filled him in, and he asked some very informed questions beyond his usual areas of competence-- things more in the line of qualifications Dr. Brennan would naturally consider, beyond the murder weapon analysis Dr. Hodgins and Zack had always been thick as thieves on.

"You've been talking to Dr. Brennan about this," I suggested.

He nodded. "We ... we've started seeing Zack together at lunchtime. The topic comes up."

"Naturally."

He looked at me again and snorted. "You're a real cool customer, Cam."

"Naturally," I added, then spoke again as I remember the events of three weeks ago that I'd inadvertently witnessed. "And ... ah ... is Zack the only thing you two have started seeing together?"

He snorted, ran his hand over his beard, then looked down toward Angela's office. "Not yet."

I couldn't help it, it just came out of my mouth. "And you were going to tell me when?"

"Is it any of your business? We're professionals, and we're not even involved yet." he asked, his eyes suddenly fierce. "I don't recall your asking her if it was alright if you hopped in the sack with her partner."

Ouch. Painful. But true, as far as it went. And she hadn't let it affect my working relationship with her, despite the fact that were I in her place, I would have throttled her just out of sheer territoriality.

"It really hurt her feelings, you know," he said thoughtfully, as he looked down toward Angela's office again. "She didn't say anything, but ... it did."

"That I didn't talk to her?"

He just looked at me. "No-- that neither one of you did. He told her it was none of her business when she asked him about it, and you pretended like it never happened. Very professional."

"I suppose you're right," I sighed. "Not like I didn't know why he ended it later, anyway." He wouldn't admit it, even when I told him point blank, but I knew-- he was in love with the woman and even just screwing around made him feel guilty, though he'd never told her how he felt.

"Yeah, well, it's been two years since then," Hodgins said hotly, "and you two ended it because he thinks that he loves her, well, he still hasn't done anything."

I looked at him, and his face was utterly serious. And angry. And ... determined, though usually he was the joker, the clown, the breath of fresh air when Dr. Brennan was serious, Angela was flaky, and ... I pushed everyone around, half cop, half squint. Sometimes I thought my half-copness left me on the outside, caused me to miss things because I didn't quite have their mindset or priorities. My mind just ran on different tracks. Seeley's too, I suppose.

Ah.

"He forgot, too."

His jaw clenched as he nodded. And he looked at me and said something so utterly true there was no way I could argue. "You all did-- this year. But every year, since then? We _all_ forgot her, and neither one of us would be here at all if it wasn't for her. I mean, I only stayed here this year because Angie forgot and I couldn't very well ask her to distract me. He went back to your place that first time, I assume?"

I shook my head-- he hadn't. "No. I assumed he slept on her couch."

He gritted his jaw again. "No. Didn't keep her company last year, either."

"Oh. Jesus. What did she do?"

"Worked." It came out clipped, brusque, angry-- at himself as well as the rest of us, I suppose.

"And ... none of us remembered. Even Seeley."

"Yeah."

"We should have," I sighed. It was true. Some things you should have to ask for help on. If you've got real friends who aren't too caught up in their own stuff, they'll remember.

"Yeah." He looked at me again, then ran his hand through his beard. "Everyone thinks she's a robot, you know? It's not true. She's just ... quiet, and ... not obvious about the way that she gives. I mean, none of us would be here, have these awesome jobs if she didn't work here. Even you. She ... works hard, makes sure we have good results ... so that stays in place."

I thought, hated to admit it, but didn't run from the truth. At least, I tried not to. "I suppose. So ... what brought this all about, if I can ask?"

His mouth quirked, almost bitterly. "Eleanor Rigby, I guess, to start with. I mean ... we were alone together in the car, and then I scooted off with Angie, but in the end, we were still alone together in that car, and no one else knows what that feels like, even if there are other reasons to care and to try for something more with other people. But ... nearly dying together means something, even if it's a negative way to define yourself against the rest of the world. But ... it's still solid ... still gives you something to work with."

Breaking eye contact, he looked down at the office where the two friends still sat. "They're not screaming at each other. I guess that's good."

His mouth quirked at the corner again, and he looked at me again. "There's something to work with there. She ... she's not a flake the same way Angela is. She answers a direct question with a direct answer. Admits when she doesn't know. And yeah, I admit I'm honing in on the work the G-Man's done to get her to be more willing to actually think about how she's reacting to stuff, but..."

"You're not going to wait around for Angela forever while she gets her head on straight, and she's finally decided that whatever she feels for Seeley, he's not going to act on what he feels anytime soon."

"Yeah. There are some things some people shouldn't have to ask. She shouldn't have to ask. Everything's not always equal. And ... she doesn't always offer stuff readily, but she'll answer you every time you ask her something. That's better than most of us. Better than him, certainly."

I thought for a moment, thought back to Seeley, thought as much as I could over while my colleague regarded me, a resolute look on his face. Though he and I never discussed it, I did think Seeley was being too risk-averse. Funny, that, for a former gambler. Yes, she was inscrutable much of the time, but he knew her better than most of us-- he, more than anyone else, should have been willing to roll the dice. And it was true, as this recent debacle with Jared proved. If he'd just filled her in a bit more ... I decided-- Hodgins was right. They were Seeley's dice to roll, and he hadn't.

"Well, I know you two will be professional if it works out. Or at least Dr. Brennan will."

Hodgins snorted, then grinned. "Yeah. No Egyptian exhibits, though I'm sure she'd have something fascinatingly sexy to say about it if I could just convince her." His tone was only half-sarcastic-- there was a light in his eye as he thought of something I had no knowledge of-- it wasn't just male appreciation for Dr. Brennan's fantastic figure and looks-- there was something else there that he saw in her.

"You're really serious, hunh, Jack?" I offered.

He smiled, nodding. "Tears of a clown, baby. She ... gets it if you just give her the chance." And then that outwardly glad expression actually shifted to something more genuine as Angela's door opened-- Dr. Brennan looked up at Jack, and just ... looked at him before quietly nodding and heading back to her office. She didn't ignore me ... I just wasn't part of the equation. Ockham's Razor-- paring things down to the essentials needed to solve the question.

I wondered how Seeley would feel when he found out he wasn't part of the equation either, because he'd kept his own clown smile on too long. But it wasn't my news to tell.


	4. Chapter 4

I was sitting out on the stairs of the lab, looking out into the garden and enjoying the smell of the cool grass, the water from the fountains, the dark night sky-- coolness after the heat of the chase, the heat of argument with local officials and debating the data, the heat of anger in catching the suspect and getting the confession.

Jack's kiss last night had been a surprise, but a welcome one-- I'd been standing over the remains, feeling nearly hopeless at not finding that last clue I knew would yield the answers. He and Angela and Cam had all stayed around, working on various things at our stations out on the platform while Booth took off. "You guys call me as soon as you find something," he called. I supposed it made sense, though I still thought he could have stayed and slept here, since it would take less time thereafter to make an apprehension, but I'd long since accepted that Booth did what he wanted, and I was trying not to feel bitter.

So there I was, standing over the remains, running my hands through my hair as I tried to make sense of it all. It's not as easy as Booth would like to think it is. There are so many pieces of data-- all my own findings, everyone else's, the pieces that Booth and I uncover together, the information from Booth and Sweets as to motivation that I have to somehow fit in with the hard data. Hah. The scientific data is only hard in terms of organizing the details-- they actually line up and stay organized in the meantime. The motivations? That's the 'soft data,' and it ... slides around on me. It's slippery. Hard to keep fitting into the spaces until it stays put. It's like mercury. Hard to handle until you find just the right molecules for it to bind to-- Cam doesn't do that very well. It's still up to me, most of the time. I was biting my lip, resisting the urge to bite my nails, tear my hair out, or look away from the victim whose skull sat there demanding I answer two questions-- the same one all their skulls did-- "_Who did this to me? And how are you making them pay?_"

There were some steps behind me-- Jack's. His steps are lighter but more even than Booth's. Booth sometimes starts and stops unexpectedly. He's hard to predict ... and he often changes direction when I least expect it. Jack's hand rubbed between my shoulders. "You'll find it, B.," he said assuredly. "Always do."

B. I'd told him two weeks after we'd stayed the night here at the lab, and after we'd both almost kissed, then discussed what it meant, that it would be silly for him to call me Dr. B. if we were going to try to make our way toward something more than just friendship. He'd just laughed. "Yeah, but Tempe? That's what your Dad calls you. Just, eew. Bones? I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole, baby. And Temperance? Well, it's serious, and so are you, but you don't give yourself enough credit for being a goofball. I'll drop the doctor, but I think I'll stick with the B. But you've got to promise me something."

"What's that?" I'd asked, unable to resist his mischevious smile, and incapable of chiding him on the '_baby_' thing. He called everyone '_baby_,' it wasn't a patronizing nominative.

He chuckled and winked at me before speaking again. "Hodgins! Oh, God, Yes, More, Hodgins, More! Just sounds too formal in bed. Try Jack, will you?"

I'd nearly lost it, I was laughing so hard. Thank goodness at least one male I worked with wasn't too shy to entertain the possibility of sleeping with me aloud, even if we never moved past mere verbal discussion. "Jack it is," I said with a smile.

So I'd turned to him last night when he spoke, his vote of quiet, calm confidence eliciting a different response than what I would give to Booth's usual challenging exhortations. "Sometimes I worry I won't," I said, surprised to hear the doubt come out of my mouth.

Jack just tipped his head, thinking, as he stood close to me. We were nose to nose, eye to eye. "No, I suppose you're right-- it's not out of the realm of possibility. But it won't be because you didn't try with everything in you. It'll be because ... well, sometimes it takes longer than we want it to for there to be enough facts to prove a theory. It's people. It hurts when we can't solve it. But proof is proof, B. If the facts aren't ready to be found, then they won't. But I'm sure that you find every single fact that _can_ be found."

"I do try," I admitted, and tried to smile at him.

"We both do," he said softly, and there, that was it, not a sudden realization, just a crystallized knowing, the pieces of hard data in place. He leant in without hesitation, and I closed the rest of the distance, his hands coming up to my face and my hands to his arms. It wasn't a lightning bolt. It wasn't waves crashing. It wasn't the earth opening beneath me-- all ways of describing the only kiss I'd ever had with Booth. But Jack initiated, and it was warm, and encouraging, and urged me along at my own pace. Like a sunny day when the light encourages me to get out and go for a run, something I don't always do, but that I always enjoy. How long can you live on adrenaline? A run keeps you healthy, long term.

It was a short kiss, not a passionate one. But it meant something-- a promise, rather than a shock and a leap back from the edge, as Booth did, as I had. He let go, carefully, and I did too.

"Nice try," I murmured, and he snorted.

"Try, try again," he replied, then gave me another soft kiss before stepping back. "Alright. I'm going to get out of your way so you can finish up here." And with a twinkling smile, he was off.

When I turned, both Cam and Angela looked surprised-- but Angela didn't look mad, as she'd assured us she wouldn't be, and Cam, after a moment, gave me a thumbs up, then walked off the platform. I smiled at both of them, and went back to my work.

Later, after we'd solved it, Jack came to my office to give me a neck rub. "See, B.? Told you you'd find it, my theory still stands," he said softly as I leant into him-- he bent down to kiss my cheek after tucking some hair back from my face. I turned into the kiss, kissed him back, not minding the soft curls of his beard. Liking them, even. "Thanks," I murmured. "Sometimes you just need a little encouragement."

He stroked the side of my cheek, said "we all do," then let me kiss him again as I turned further to pull him to me, my hand at the back of his neck.

We parted, and he looked at me. "Are you going to tell him?"

I nodded. "Yes. I ... should have earlier, and I wasn't hedging my bets, Jack, but..."

He nodded solemnly, understanding. "He's your friend, you're still not sure, and no matter what, you don't want to hurt him. Me neither-- all of that."

"Right. But I will tell him. Tonight if I get a chance, otherwise tomorrow. We have to see Sweets in two days anyway, it'll have to be before then."

"Okay," he said, then kissed me once more. "Give me a call if you want company later, but if you guys have paperwork, or you do get to talk to him, well... you know how to reach me."

"Thanks," I'd said. And meant it.

When I came out of my office, Booth was in with Angela, discussing something serious by the looks of it. Neither raised their heads as I passed, some sure sign they were both deeply engaged in the conversation.

So I went outside, and sat on the stairs, trying to think of nothing beyond being relieved that I'd answered another skull's question. "_I know who did this to you. I helped make them confess. They're going to jail_," I could say to one more life on my table. I was breathing the night air when the door opened behind me, and an uneven tread came toward me. Booth's.

I turned to look up at him, and he looked down at me, for once his face totally open. He knew-- he must have seen us in my office. "Have a seat," I said, patting the stair next to me, my heart heavy.

He sat wearily, looking at me with this sad, serious expression. "I was going to..." he started to say, then trailed off.

"Were you? When?" I asked, though I tried to ask kindly.

"Fair enough," he said. "I was just asking myself that. I ... couldn't come up with an answer."

My heart clenched a bit, and I reached out to take his hand. "I'm sorry, Booth."

His mouth twisted. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm the one who forgot. I'm the one who ... hesitated."

"Booth ..." I said quietly. "It's not okay that you forgot, but I forgive you. You're my friend, you always will be, and there have been so many times when you haven't forgotten, or when I'm the one who needed to be sorry."

Despite my hopes for something with Jack, a tear ran down my face, then another. This hurt me as much as it hurt Booth, though I didn't know if he'd think so.

"I don't ... we don't want to hurt you, Booth, and maybe I should have said something earlier about how I felt, but I always assumed you had a good reason for not saying anything about whatever you felt. Maybe that was foolish of me, but it is what it is now."

A tear leaked down his face, and swallowing, he spoke again, his voice choked. "Does it make any difference now to say that I love you, and that there wasn't any good reason except that I was afraid you'd say no, even though you've always stuck by me whenever I've told you something hard?"

I shook my head and tried to stifle a sob, not very successfully. "Maybe. I don't know. I ... I ... I love you too, but ... Booth, Jack asked me to try, and I want to right now." I sniffled, then gave up the ghost and let the tears flow. Love hurt-- always had. But ... I had to try. I knew that now-- and Jack had offered me the chance to try, without hesitation. Deliberation, yes. Hesitation, no.

Booth nodded, accepting, tears streaming freely down his cheeks now. "I can't say I hope it works out. I'm not that generous right now. But I do want you to be happy, and... if it doesn't work out, I'll be here in whatever way you want me to be."

"I don't want you to wait, Booth. I want you to be happy-- if you find that with someone, then I want you to try it." I replied. "But you're always my friend, no matter what. Really."

He looked down at our hands, still intertwined, then gave me a squeeze and let go. I let go, too.

"He's a good man. I ... want that for you."

I stood, pulled him up, and looked up at him. "You're a good man, too, Seeley Booth. Don't ever doubt it. Or think that I do."

He swallowed, then attempted a trembling smile. "So... no Thai tonight to finish paperwork, I guess."

I shook my head. "Not tonight. But tomorrow would be good. I'm going to go home, take a bath, go to bed early for once."

He stood there a moment longer, unsure. My own smile trembling, my own voice choked, I pulled him into a hug. "It's not a guy hug," I managed. "But just take it anyway."

His arms wrapped around me and hugged me back gently. Like so many times before now, except different. We were different, that was all there was to it. I just hoped different would still be okay.

Eventually, he let me go. I smiled once more at him.

"Going in?" he asked, hand on the door.

"Not yet. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Booth."

He sighed. Sniffled. Then steeled himself, and said "Goodnight, Bones. See you tomorrow."

I sat for a few minutes more, then called Jack from my cell.

"Hey, B.," he said, his voice warm.

"Hey," I replied, my voice still sounding quavery.

"How'd it go?"

"Sad. Very sad. But ... as well as it could have, I guess."

"I'm sorry," he said, leaving it at that.

"It'll be fine," I replied, not quite sure what I was referring to, but hoping it was true no matter what.

"You want company tonight?" he asked.

I thought for a long moment. "I don't think so. I told Booth I wanted a bath and an early bed time, and I need it."

"No problem," he said without hesitation. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Breakfast?" I asked.

"It's a date," he replied. Again without hesitation. Without hesitation. That was it. No more hesitation.


	5. Chapter 5

Something had changed between them. They weren't tense or angry, and their bodies weren't facing in opposite directions. They were still in tune with each other, but ... something was different. They'd closed that last case, a real marathon, and they both looked tired. But while he looked calm yet subdued, she looked... thoughtful. Expectant? I don't know.

I asked them about the case, tried to tease out this new whatever-it-was by asking about lab dynamics and team tensions that might have arisen.

"No-- we're all fine, Sweets," Booth said, and Brennan shot him a look. Concerned, not angry. He looked back at her for a moment before speaking again.

"In fact ... I actually learned I'd been taking the squints a bit for granted, you know? Got confronted with some of it. Kind of stupid on my part. But ... we're all fine."

Brennan looked measuringly at him, and he looked back at her, one of those silent communications that none of us can decipher. She nodded almost imperceptibly, shot him a sad smile, and he gave her the same one in return, before they both turned to look at me, united on some point again. Talking in code, as always.

Then their phones both rang, and looking at one another once again, they both went to answer. It was hopeless. I couldn't insist on therapy when there were murderers to catch. They both listened, asked short questions, both said "Be there shortly," and stood together.

"Got a body, Sweets, got to go." He pulled Dr. Brennan's coat up for her and she looked at him for a moment. Another impenetrable look, and he nodded this time, before she stuck out her arms, he placed her coat on her shoulders, and they were out the door, his hand at her back. It all took an instant, and it was all fraught with incredible sadness—and yet, complete agreement. I needed to know why, but now wasn't the time.

* * *

They called me a day or two later, needing a profile, and wrapped it up not long after, their usual excellent job. Afterward, they asked me to join them and the rest of the team for drinks, and I accepted, hoping to see in a social dynamic what had changed between them. It was almost as if, despite the sadness I'd seen, they were more relaxed with each other, as if some tension had disappeared. I wondered-- were they finally involved? Had they finally admitted what they meant to each other? I got my answer in a way I hadn't expected.

Dr. Saroyan, Agent Booth and Ms. Montenegro were all sitting together when I came in, and I slid in next to Booth. Then Dr. Hodgins came in with Dr. Brennan, the entomologist's arm over the anthropologist's shoulders as she laughed at something he said. I looked around at the team and saw Cam, Angela, and Booth smiling to see them both so happy and so clearly together. Booth's smile was slightly strained, but he did look happy for her, underneath.

"You're all fine?" I asked under my breath.

He looked over at me slowly, as if he didn't want the rest to notice. "Yeah, really. But ... he who hesitates is lost, kid. Like I said. Learned something this week." he replied, then looked away, to answer a question his partner asked him.

His partner. Nothing more. And that tension between them, all that unresolved stuff that made them afraid and totally co-dependent. Just gone. Whatever they'd been meaning to say, they'd said it. I could tell it was resolved. They weren't happy about it, but they weren't at war over it either. They actually were running in parallel now. Just a sad parallel.


	6. Chapter 6

"How you doing, sweetie?" I heard Angela ask, as I leaned over the railing and looked down at my partner. It had been a month, and we worked even better than ever. What a horrible release valve, but still. And she was happy-- just not with me, in that way.

"Fine," I replied, looking over at Angela. She looked like I felt.

"We both really blew it, hunh?"

I nodded. It was true. "I told her I'd wait for her," I said quietly.

She snorted, her mouth twisting. "That's what I told him."

I offered the next part. She'd understand. "She told me she wanted me to be happy, and not to wait."

She smiled bitterly. "He did, too. What are you going to do?"

I gave her my own bittersweet smile, then looked down as I heard Bones laugh at some joke Hodgins made, watched her smile openly at him, slap him on the shoulder, then turn back to her remains.

"I'm going to wait anyway."

She patted my arm, then joined me in leaning over the rail. "Me too, sweetie, me too."

That was all there was to say at the moment, so we looked down. Waiting, together.


	7. Chapter 7

Hodgins and Brennan were happy, neither Booth nor Angela were sulking, and everyone seemed to work even better than ever-- or at least the partners did. It was weird, at least the Hodgins and Angela part-- not so much the Booth and Brennan aspect of things. Sweets and I had agreed on it, three months after "The Kiss," as I'd come to call it, went down.

"They shoved them into therapy because they thought they were in love with each other and in complete denial about her Dad's trial," Sweets said, not looking at me as he slid onto a stool at the diner and took in the special boards.

Talk about starting a conversation right in the middle of it. But hey, I was game.

"I figured. But... if anyone asked me, I'd have said that no matter what else, they're too good friends to let something like that get in the way. This, either."

"It's strange," he said, looking at me. "I always thought Angela and Jack would get back together..."

"Me too. And I thought in the end that Seeley and Brennan would work everything out, but... like I told Seeley, life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans."

He nodded, grimacing. "And yet..." he trailed off, looking thoughtful. He gave his order to the waitress, then looked back at me, expecting some comment. Easy enough, I had plenty.

"They seem to get along and work even better than ever... as if best wasn't already good enough."

He grimaced again. "Yeah. I've got no excuse to keep them in therapy anymore, they're almost completely simpatico now, and when they do disagree, it's for purely professional reasons. I've got my last session with them tomorrow. But it still sucks, you know..."

I sighed. "It does. I've got to dissolve the betting pool at the lab. I'm such a hopeless romantic that I was hoping that my ex and the woman we broke up over would get together."

Sweets snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah. Me too. But it's been what... three months now? No drama, no fights, no mid-platform heartbreaking declarations of love and pleas for forgiveness. I'm surprised that there haven't been any..." he trailed off, then sipped the coffee the waitress placed in front of him.

I thought about it. "Love's funny like that, Sweets. Sometimes it's a complete nasty shambles, sometimes everyone's really careful of everyone's feelings, and really wishing well for everyone's happiness. They're all ... being careful, though if I were a betting woman I'd have been sure Angela would have freaked out after she and Roxie broke up. But ... she hasn't, and it even seems like she and Brennan are doing more stuff now. Now-- Brennan and Angela-- there's a pair that work out despite themselves. But it's not like Brennan and Hodgins paw each other all over the lab. You wouldn't even know, really, except for..."

Sweets sighed. "Yeah. Those small touches before they peel off for their offices first thing in the morning if they come in together, or those neck rubs he gives her at the end of the day when she's staying late, and they've already made sure neither Booth or Angela are there. It's ... oh, man, I don't know. He's a good guy, and she's incredible, and they both seem way happier than either of them has been for a while, but ... you know? And I had odds on Booth making a move by her Mom's anniversary, but Caroline refunded all the pool money two weeks ago."

I regarded him curiously. He really did seem disappointed. "Let me ask you something. If they'd worked it out and did get involved, what would you have done?"

He cocked his head. "Made sure they understood the importance of independent lab oversight of the work, made sure they weren't completely co-dependent, which they were at least until this all shook out, and set them off on their merry way. I mean, between the interrogation room cameras and the lab work, it's not like they could fix the results of the cases, you know? It was always more about making sure they kept being professionally critical of the other, rather than too deferential. Except ... now they're not co-dependent, and they get along like gangbusters, but ..."

"Yeah. They're not breeding beautiful squinty crimefighting babies, either." Not that I would ever say that aloud to Dr. Brennan. She'd kick my butt from here to the Bronx and then back again if she ever found out.

Sweets smiled sadly. "I was kind of hoping they'd give me some credit and name one of them Lance."

I couldn't help it-- I laughed aloud. "Right after they named their first daughter Camille for me telling him he damned well knew he was in love with her, and him dumping me. Best laid plans, Sweets."

I raised my coffee cup as if to toast, and he did the same. "Here's to not making plans for anyone else's love lives, eh?"

"Amen," he said. "Just betting on them."

I laughed again. "You should do standup now that you're not headshrinking them."

He just shook his head. With a smirk, he turned further to look at me.

"How many Yanamamo tribesmen does it take to screw in a lightbulb? None, the Yanamamo are a rainforest-dwelling tribe who have eschewed integration with mainstream populations and the attributes of modern technology..."

I nearly choked on my coffee, and encouraged, he continued.

"How many desk jockeys does it take to unscrew a lightbulb? None, because goddamnit, Bones, I told you not to bring that gun and now you've shot the damned light out, when it's my job to shoot the light out... and where the hell were you keeping that thing, anyway?"

I whooped with laughter for a bit before I calmed down. "Ah. Well, at least you can write some Booth/Brennan knock knock jokes for the lab's holiday party. We'll put on a skit."

He shook his head, raised his mug again, and said, "Maybe. No plans, this far in advance."

"I'll take that bet."


	8. Chapter 8

I was standing with B. while she silently talked to her Mom when I heard two car doors slam shut over at the roadside. Looking up, I saw it was Angie and Booth-- they'd each arrived separately. I'd kind of wondered for a bit there if they'd get together, but it hadn't happened. It had been a weird four months-- very, very good ones, amazingly relaxed, lots of cases closed, and more "team time" spent together, the five of us plus the Intern O' the Week, than ever before. But still-- weird.

B. looked over and smiled but said nothing when our friends joined us, their own flowers in hand, then turned back for a few minutes more to talk to her Mom. I was pleased she'd invited me-- I'd just mentioned I knew it was coming and asked how she was doing, but she'd asked if I wanted to go. Somehow it ended up being an all night talkathon between her stuff with her Mom and my stuff with my folks. Of course, I knew mine were dead for certain and why-- but finishing out your teen years on your own's not easy even when you've got money, and she understood that. It was nice, all over again, to have someone not just be sympathetic, but actually get where you're coming from-- and then to wake up with them still knowing it the next morning.

Finally, B. seemed to be done, and shoved her hand through my arm. "Come on, guys," she said, smiling. "Let's go get some breakfast."

It didn't feel weird, though, when Angie took B's other arm and the G-Man dope-slapped me in the back of the head before I gave him a noogie. Although it did hurt when B. slapped us both.

* * *

The next morning, she sat up halfway in bed to press a solemn kiss on my lips. I brushed away that lock of hair that never stays put.

"You should just cut that one off," I said, smiling.

"I've tried," she sighed ruefully. "It just grows back even worse."

"We all try, B."

"We do," she answered, smiling gently. "But sometimes, a theory is disproven, not just rendered a proof."

"You're a nerd," I said, snorting despite myself.

She smiled again, that mysterious smile I'd started to get behind, to learn about, to learn how to evoke. And how it evoked my own answering smile. It was nice to have someone who got you-- it ran both ways, now.

"It's true what you said when you first kissed me, Jack. Sometimes all the facts just aren't there-- but... well, just think of it this way-- it doesn't make the ones you actually collect not worth anything."

I felt the truth of it catch in my throat as I looked at her. Gorgeous logic to match the gorgeous person and gorgeous body. I got out of bed and held out my hand, watching appreciatively as she placed her hand in mine, then unfolded that skin, those legs, those eyes from the bed.

"It's been a pleasure, B.," I said, holding her hand in mine.

"It still will be, Jack," she said, her own eyes glimmering. "Just a new kind of pleasure."

Our lips met for one last kiss, her soft honeyed mouth on mine. When we broke it off, I let go of her hand. But I couldn't let her go, not quite yet, and took hold of her wrist again.

"B. Can I have a personal day?"

She threw her head back and laughed, her eyes merry again under the sadness. "Considering you're the one who dumped me, you'll be lucky if I don't decide to fire you."

"Fine," I said, sticking my tongue out at her. "But just keep this in mind. I'm still the biggest lab donor, and I know what you look like naked."

Her smile twinkled at me. "I would think you'd be more afraid of my telling your Board all the things you shout out in bed, and all about how you actually do read the balance sheets and financial reports. I mean, Jack, if they actually knew you were a responsible business owner ... much less what Cam and Booth would say if I ruined your utter squint image..."

"Not that!" I cried, placing my hand over my heart as if she'd shot me. "Okay, no personal day."

She smiled, got dressed as I watched and didn't bother to hide my appreciation, then stood in the door and gave me a wave. "See you at work, Jack. In an hour. Don't be late. I know when you got up. Dynamic systems, all that squint babble. Like I said, it's a new day and a new car, Jack."

God, she was a hardass, no wonder I loved her—just not that way, either of us. But yeah—we'd both been static before we tried this new thing, and now we were ready to move forward again. Just in different directions. "See you at work, babe. New day."

She just rolled her eyes. I still was amazed she let me get away with the babe. Maybe it was for old time's sake, and now that we were just friends again, she'd karate chop me. But boy, would it be fun to have those hands on me again-- I was never going to look at those skeletons she handled quite the same way again. Lucky, lucky bones.

And she was right. The facts we'd gathered along the way in pursuit of an "_us_" were worth a lot, and not just to the two of us. We'd both learned a lot, about ourselves and each other. And … I was looking forward to putting what I'd learned into action. New day… new car… new roads to drive down. And a good friend with a hot bod waving at me in the rearview mirror, peeling off in her own direction.


	9. Chapter 9

I placed the last signature on the file and closed it, then watched as Booth watched me scrabble his chopsticks around in the bottom of the box of Mee Krob, waiting for me to call him a pig or try to fight him for the food that was left. It was as normal as it ever was-- except _more, _now, though I'd never have guessed it before.

We talked a lot more and argued a lot less about things that didn't really matter. We still argued about motive, and how fast I was working, and whether I should have a gun or not-- but personally? It was just less ... precarious even as much as I'd needed him before all this happened. I learned to ask him more questions that had nothing to do with religion or sex, and everything to do with whatever he might want to tell me. And he actually told me things-- I think I learned more personal things about him, none of which changed my initial impression of his inestimable character, in these past four months, than I'd known in the past four years. And each time I told him it was okay, he seemed to believe me a bit more.

And... he'd been there for me. When my Dad had his heart attack, Booth was the first person I called, the first one to arrive at the hospital while we waited to hear. He was still my best friend in so many ways. He took turns with me when my Dad came back to stay with me at my place, running home at lunchtime to make sure my Dad was okay and to bring him lunch, since he practically blew up my microwave that first day we left him alone, and took turns running my Dad to appointments when the incision from the bypass in his leg still left him too sore to drive.

Booth hadn't been dating. Angela either. It was all strange, and yet not. Angela and I were actually closer than we'd been in a long time, even before she and Jack got together, though it had been hard for her and me when she finally broke up with Roxie and tearfully admitted that she thought she still might love Jack just a month ago. But ... we'd gotten through it, and I hoped I gave her some good advice-- I wondered what the future would bring, now that Jack and I were over.

After we'd agreed that we'd found what we needed from each other, and that what we wanted exceeded what the other could give, Jack had joked about that Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young song, "_Love the One You're With_," claiming that had been what had kept us together even as I agreed with him we should end it.

I'd shaken my head. "No. I love you unqualifiedly, Jack, you know it's not a question of settling. It's … the time paradox we discussed. We're in a different now than we were four months ago, and … it's a good thing. But … divergent paths, right?"

He'd nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Different stories. Different kind of love, too."

At which point he'd started singing a completely ridiculous Cher song called "_Different Kind of Love Song_" that even I knew, and I made fun of him again for trying to impose a time paradox upon our lives with all his "_what if I'd kissed you when I came out of that hole_" or "_what if Booth kissed you when you came out of that hole._" I didn't repeat our discussion earlier that night about all the '_what if's_' we both still had about Zach.

When he'd stopped singing, I told him "I wouldn't change any of it. It's been a pleasure, Dr. Hodgins." Which of course made him cry, the way I echoed his words when we both thought we were going to die, and that made me cry-- but it was a happy cry, though it wouldn't make sense to think crying could be happy. But we'd made love one last time, and fell asleep holding hands, as I said to him, "Just think, Jack. New day, no more old cars tomorrow, and lots of new dynamic systems to affect."

He'd smiled and kissed me. "No stasis, new day, new cars. That's right."

When I came out of my reverie, Booth was looking at me. "I was wondering if I was going to need to wave a spring roll under your nose there, Bones," he said with a grin.

"Sorry," I said, returning the charm smile, and enjoying the fact that his became even wider. That had been happening more, lately. He'd been letting me just be a friend, rather than someone he always had to take care of. I looked at him one more long moment, then decided to tell him. It was what friends did—shared information-- no matter what else they were or might be.

"Jack and I broke up."

His chopsticks in the Mee Krob stilled as he looked at me. "I'm sorry, Bones, when?"

"A few days ago."

He looked at me, assessing the work we'd all just put in on the case, all the long hours the whole team put in at the lab, even Booth, who'd in the past few months taken to using my laptop to run more database searches and perform other FBI work on the overnights—or sleep on my couch, waiting-- while the rest of the team worked on the scientific data. He'd been at the lab or with me practically the whole time. If I'd been upset, he'd have seen it.

"You guys ended on good terms, then."

I nodded. "Still friends—better than when we started for sure, and that's more than worth it all. It's always good to have friends."

His serious expression was just concerned, not … acquisitive, not that he ever had been. "You're okay, though?"

"Yes, really. I mean, there's always a period where you wonder, but … we hashed it out pretty thoroughly. We just … we were travelling parallel paths for a while, and it made sense to take turns carrying each other, but… well, roads diverge." I shrugged. There was more to it, of course, but I didn't need to bomb him with details.

He'd asked me over late night post case Thai and paperwork, two months into things with Jack, if I was happy. He'd asked it very seriously—so I gave him a serious answer.

"_I think so. I've finally realized it's impossible to fully plan for the future. Right now? I'm content."_

"_Very Zen, Bones," he'd said with a smile._

"_And you?" I'd asked._

"_I think so. You're right about the planning thing… I'm just trying to concentrate on enjoying what's happening now."_

That conversation was echoing in my head as I watched Booth try to decide if he was going to ask me anything more.

"So … what do you guys do next?" he asked.

I snorted. "First, I've got to get him to stop calling me '_babe_.' It was one thing when it was baby just like everyone else, but '_babe_' is just different."

He laughed as I made a face, then said, "Sorry, Bones, I'm with Jack on this one. You don't like a nickname, you've got to karate chop someone right out of the gate. It's too late now."

"Shut up and hand me a spring roll," I said, sticking out my tongue. "And go get me a beer."

He handed me the spring roll, but made to stay put until I went to karate chop him, at which point he brought us both new beers, laughing. We finished the food and were halfway through the last of the beer when he looked at me solemnly and said "Can I ask why?"

"Sure," I replied. "But it's a squinty answer, so you're going to have to bear with me, because it's the answer both Jack and I agreed was why … our paths diverged."

He wrinkled his nose but said "Fine. Just dumb it down for me where appropriate."

I took a long swallow of beer, composing my thoughts before I began. "In maths, physics, and philosophy, there's a concept—a theory that hasn't yet been disproven-- called the time paradox. What it posits is that logically, time travel is impossible, because if it were, going back to the past would inevitably change the future, and could well make both the time travel and the time traveler impossible—the question of if you killed you grandfather, you never would have existed to time travel in the first place. And philosophically, there's an additional aspect-- it's that '_what if we went back and killed Hitler_' thing. Even if you did, it would change the future so drastically that there would be no way to know whether the future you'd get in the outcome would even be worth it."

He nodded, following. "Yeah—I've heard that Hitler analogy before."

"Well, there are all sorts of attempts to subvert the theory—ideas like superstrings and multiple universes and other things—but suffice it to say there's no practical facts to disprove the theory. It's just … it's impossible to change the past, and as a matter of theory, doing so is destructive. Trying to change your then present by going back and re-writing things in the past has potentially disastrous, and at least completely unknown and uncontrollable consequences for the future."

He nodded. "You'd basically be killing yourself, or changing completely from who you were."

I sighed as I realized he was getting it. "Yes. Exactly. Now… this is a different theory, but it's related. The butterfly effect refers to the relationship between things happening in the present that may go into the future. It's part of something called chaos theory, and most of it's not important except… the butterfly effect posits that there are factors which are sensitive and dependent on each other at only one given time. If one of them changes, then everything else in the system is also affected. Basically, things are always changing, but at any one point in time, there's always the opportunity to make a difference by acting one way instead of another. And that decision can produce large variations in the long term behavior of the system."

He nodded. "It's the '_what if_' thing, except at a point where you still could do something about it."

I wanted to lean over and kiss him—for so many reasons, but for getting where I was going, primarily.

"Exactly!" I said, excited to finish explaining the rest. "Well… people are conscious actors unlike physical particles or other non-sentient phenomena, so there's an opportunity to … take advantage of some aspects of the time paradox. You can't change the past, but you can try to learn why you ended up where you did so it makes you better able to make a decision that positively affects the outcome of the interdependent system for the future."

He was listening, seriously, and I wanted to get to the next part before my courage gave out.

"You never know how your reaction's going to tilt the system—there's a lot of other things going on that you just can't control, but … you might as well try to tilt it the way you want from your current vantage point, rather than worry too much about all the other butterflies affecting the chaos. You can't control, or predict, but you can at least _try_, based on what you've learned from the time paradox."

Still solemn, he spoke into the pause. "Okay. I get it. So what does that have to do with you and Jack breaking up?"

I swallowed. "The time paradox is basically a bunch of '_what ifs_'—they don't change the present, though they can inform it, working backwards. You know the present—the result. You can work your way back to find what all the different factors were from that one point you just wish you could go back and change. And … going forward? Those are '_what nows_,' the butterflies. If you know where you are, you can at least put yourself out there in the direction you want to go a little bit more.

So… Jack and I both had a lot of the same '_what ifs_' all coming from the same point in time—the Gravedigger—and the '_what now_' point all coalesced when we were keeping company that night at the lab. I can't really explain all of the things Jack was wondering about—those are private to him, but we both had a lot of questions that came down to the same general questions, all of them arising out of our interactions with people after we came out of the ground. What if I'd spoken when I stayed silent? What if I stayed silent rather than saying something hurtful? What if I thought harder before I said anything at all? What if I'd paid more attention to Zach and less to myself? What if I'd paid more attention to the other person in the ground with me, been more of a friend, _if if if_…"

I looked at him and willed him to understand, while weighing my words so I didn't say anything that would hurt him.

"I was tired of asking what if. And Jack was too. We were both tired of waiting and wondering, we wanted to just … _do_ for once, just _try_ with the information we had, not constantly rethink things or wait to see how other people might act if we just assessed things long enough. So we … tried. Together. And it was lovely. He's a good friend, a fun person to be with, attentive and kind, all of those things, and we have a lot of things in common. But experiences can be the same and yet have different effects on you. The same experiences and fears we both had, our '_what ifs_?' -- not wanting to be alone, being afraid of the dark, wondering whether we were too damaged to make someone else happy, much less be happy ourselves? We resolved all of those. And when we did, we found out that as much as we'd enjoyed each other's company, and couldn't have made it that far on our own, when we stopped to see where we were, he wanted to go down one road, and I wanted to go down another.

We each know how we want to deal with the '_what nows_,'—at least I think I've maybe learned a bit tracing my way back along all the '_what ifs_' I had, but … we … wanted to affect the other dynamic actors in the system in different ways. So, Jack brought it up, and I agreed, and now he's going off on his path and I'm going on mine. Because … here's the thing we both agreed we were guilty of, beforehand. The butterfly effect posits a dynamic actor to effect a change in the system. Without trying to affect things, you've got no control over how it comes out. We both agreed that at various points, he and I were static rather than dynamic. But… now we don't need to be, quite so much. I know it's awfully technical, and it's ridiculous that I needed to figure my heart out through theories of physics, but … it is what it is. At least I figured it out."

He'd been listening intently as I answered-- when I finished, he made a small face, half silly, half solemn.

"That _was_ squinty. But I know what you mean. And … I get what you mean about all the '_what ifs_,' but… I'm still sorry that there were points when I should have done something, Bones. I know that it doesn't change anything now, but nothing says you can't learn and regret at the same time."

"That's what I told Jack… except in a more squinty manner, of course."

"Of course," he said lightly.

I leaned over and clinked the butt of my beer against his, sitting on the table before him. "Regret's something different, though… feeling badly, feeling pained that you hurt someone along the way, or that you lost the chance to do something that might have made you happy doesn't necessarily mean that you shouldn't be where you are, or that the things that didn't happen before might not happen again. You just have to … know where you are."

He leaned in from where I'd rested my elbow on the table, his eyes dark and curious. "And you know where you are?"

I shook my head. "Absolutely."

It was true—though it was painful at the time, there were a number of initiating dynamic steps in a new systemic reaction, all those months ago-- admitting I loved him, and that he loved me, but choosing Jack for the moment-- when Booth let go of me out in the gardens, he seemed to let go of a lot of things. And in letting him walk away—it felt easier, now, to go after him, because in letting him walk away, and in walking for a while with Jack, well, I knew where I was now, and I at least had a clear view of how I wanted things to work out. There were lots of things I couldn't control, but at least I could try.

He smiled as I answered him-- a genuine smile that warmed me all the way through. "Good. I'd hate to shoot Hodgins, otherwise."

I couldn't resist the urge to respond. "Booth-- I'm a dynamic actor, I'd have shot him myself."

His roaring laugh as I waggled my eyebrows at him was the first step in a new direction—one I hoped we'd both walk along together, this time. And be _more_, this time.


	10. Chapter 10

We were leaning on the railing upstairs in the lounge, looking down not into the lab but out into the gardens. It had been a hard case, and the whole team was bushed. I'd come up for coffee and Bones joined me as we idly looked out the window, content not to talk. It had been a two sunrises and three sunsets case, the last finally setting outside the lab. I checked my watch, and noticed it was almost fifteen minutes since the rest of the team said they'd be ready to join us for the now-usual all-team dinner and drinks at the bar down the street.

"Stop fidgeting," she said, laying her hand on my arm when I turned to look down onto the platform. "They'll get here when they get here."

"You know, Bones, I'm still having a hard time getting used to this Zen thing you've got going on."

She snorted. "You're just mad because my meditation teacher training classes on Saturdays cut into your breakfast plans at the diner."

I shot her a smile. "Got to fuel the machine, Bones, and if you're with me, I've got a 50/50 chance I don't have to pay."

She slapped me on the arm. "I'm glad I'm of some use to you, then," she said, then mock-glared at me.

"Nah, Bones, you've got lots of uses," I said, slinging my arm over her shoulders and pulling her in for a long kiss. She held onto my arms with her hands and kissed me back, her soft honey lips under mine.

"Hey! Try to keep it professional, for Pete's sake!" came Jack's voice as he mounted the stairs. I looked over, and he practically snickered as he reached up and goosed Angela as she climbed the stairs in front of him. Nah. Forget practically. He actually snickered.

"Hodgie, so help me," she said when they both hit the level. "If you goose me one more time I'm taking you off to the decontam shower."

He just waggled her eyebrows and said "Maybe that's what I want you to do, babe."

Bones and Angela both rolled their eyes at Jack, then joined us at the railing to look down into the lab. At least Jack wasn't calling Bones '_babe_' anymore—she'd karate chopped him once, not even that hard, and he'd knocked it off right away. Good thing she apparently decided to put up with '_Bones_.'

"So…" I drawled. "Intern O' the Week joining us?"

Bones shook her head even as she twined her hand in mine. "No. Wendell went home for the weekend, we're just waiting on Cam and Sweets."

Now I was the one to roll my eyes. "Well, we'd better just go downstairs and get them. They'll keep us waiting all night…"

Bones snickered, then followed me downstairs as Jack and Angela followed. As expected, Cam was sitting on her desk, and Sweets sitting in the chair opposite her, telling her yet another knock-knock joke that he quickly broke off as soon as we walked in.

"Come on, kids," I gestured. "Bones has to get up early to mull over koans and shit, and if she gets any more pooped tonight it's going to be too hard to get her back into the car."

Bones hip checked me and I pretended to stagger. She just stood there, her hands on her hips, glaring.

"Booth, you know perfectly well I can ambulate on my own, and in any event, it is highly likely that I will be doing the driving home, since I will be sober and you will, most likely, consume an alcoholic beverage or three."

"Try six," said Jack, punching me in the arm as we all headed out the front door and started to walk down the street. Sweets and Cam hung back, still chortling over something, and Jack caught up with Angela ahead of us, slinging his arm around her waist until she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

It was a nice night out, and we took our time, Bones putting up with my slinging my arm over her shoulder and leaning in to kiss the side of her head every ten steps or so.

We hit the light at the crosswalk at just the wrong time, to everyone else's chagrin, but not mine. Standing behind Bones, sliding my arms around her, I asked her like I did every month—"Still happy where you are, Bones?"

She turned slightly to look at me and smiled, that breathtaking smile of hers that makes my knees weak, my stomach flop, my heart stop, and my breath all disappear. "Yes. And I still like where we're going." Her hand came over mine, patting me where I held her at the waist.

And then I felt it, under my hand. Something so slight, almost an imperceptible flutter. Bones, her hand over mine, and my hand over her only slightly round belly, felt it too and gasped audibly. Everyone turned around. I can't imagine what the look on my face must have been, or on Bones', and any response to Angela's "what?" had to wait as we both felt the kick again under our hands.

I never thought I'd be glad to lose Bones because I'd been too afraid to say anything, but she was right in the end—she usually was. Just because you regretted a lost opportunity for some bit of happiness in the past didn't mean that's where you should have been at some later point—or that the opportunity would never happen again. I'd tried to plan it the first time, and it hadn't worked out at all. But this time, late night Thai and early breakfasts and not abandoning the squints at the lab when they were working all night, and just trying to pay attention to things as they came along all worked out—pushing things in the direction I wanted them to go, rather than wondering what might happen and letting the moment pass. And Bones and I met in the middle, a month after she explained all about Chaos Theory and Time Paradoxes and how, though she'd never put it this way, sometimes you have to lose something in order to find it again. Although she'd just blame it on my holding the Mee Krob over her head as she tried to get it back from me, and us both making the move to kiss in the middle. Dynamic actors, as she'd say, moving toward a desired result.

"Hey Bones," I whispered in her ear. "I like where we're going, too." Our own little in utero butterfly kicked in agreement.


End file.
